


I would give up my heart to be with You

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, M/M, WWII AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A WWII AU fic where Steve goes to the camp in France to fight for his country and Tony just so happens to be enlisted at the same camp. Captain Steve Rogers and Privet Tony Stark fight well together and may even become more (they so will), with a Private Bruce Banner appearance later. Rated T for probable language. Tony/Steve. Stony. Superhusbands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I would give up my heart to be with You

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This work is dedicated to Alan Turing, a war hero, like Steve. Alan Turing dedicated so much to the war and I'm not saying if I believe this to be right or wrong. No one was told about his efforts and even today his name is not a well known one. After the war he went back to living his anonymous life until someone found him having 'unnatural relations' with another man. As a consequence of this he was chemically castrated, by the method of oestrogen injections for the course of one year. He lost his job cracking codes for British Intelligence as homosexuals were not eligible for security clearance. I don't care about your stance on war. That is and never was okay. The British government didn't even bother to apologise until 2009 and as of yet, he is still to receive a pardon for who he chose to love.
> 
> So this is written in memory of Alan Turing, a man whose skills and commitment were never recognised, a man who was not permitted to love.

Steve dismounted off the back of the open top truck that had brought him to this far-flung camp, hiking his pack that carried all of the belongings he had left, apart from his bike which was in storage, higher onto his broad shoulders. It was muddy, it was wet, it was cold, like all of the green countryside he had been driven through. It gave him time to think about what he was doing and why he was doing it. He knew that he wanted to be on the front lines but he had never been fond of fighting, but more specifically bullies. He knew that Dr. Erskine had picked him because he had been sure that he wouldn't abuse his strength. Steve hoped that he never would, and he was still uncomfortable with fighting. He knew that, inevitably his cause and his participation in the war would cost lives. But then he thought about what Hitler stood for and what would happen if that sort of hatred took over the world and he knew that he was doing the right thing. Steve knew that he was somewhere in France, he hadn't been told the exact location to try and keep his whereabouts a secret. He wasn't sure why they thought he would leak his own position. He wasn't suicidal. Or dim, for that matter. But, Steve reasoned, why should he need to know his location? No one was going to try and write to him.

He was met by a senior looking officer who enthusiastically shook his hand in a jovial manner that was grating in stark contrast to the general atmosphere of the camp, to the other troops he could see milling around near the big gates that had taken an hour to get open due to the necessary security. The fortification was a gloomy place. The American citizens had all been told the war would be over quickly, now here the men were, months later. Still hungry. Still away from their families. The officer, whose tag read General Abraham, clapped Steve on the back after the firm hand shake.

"Steve, ma boy. Good to see ya. I heard you been getting us plenty of funding back in the States, huh? Well, we all appreciate that round here. If it gets us a few more bullets then that's a few more Gerries dead in the ground, right?" General Abraham chuckled, after greeting him in a warm Southern accent.

Steve frowned. He didn't appreciate the way that the General was talking about the people they were fighting. Sure; he didn't agree with the philosophies of Hitler, but this attitude hardly seemed better. They were not animals. They had friends back home. Parents. Possibly a girl, a wife, a kid. But he felt it was not his place to contradict Abraham so he stayed quiet.

Abraham did not seem to notice, moving straight on to calling forward his second in command.

"May I introduce Flemings? He is my eyes and ears for the guys. He lets me know what's going on, and who needs a talking to."

Steve felt himself stiffen. He wasn't one to judge, but he didn't like snitches. Or bullies. And Flemings looked like both. However he stepped forwards offering his hand to the short blonde. And shaking it he smiled, halting slightly when Flemings did not smile back. He stepped back quickly when Steve released his hand, his expression remaining neutral and cold the whole time.

Abraham soon had his arm round Steve's back, guiding him towards a central looking tent judging by all the activity spilling out of the raised flap and the noise coming from inside, instructions and co-ordinates being yelled at other officers. Abraham showed him what their current situation was. He stood near one of those tables with professional looking guys pushing little shapes all over a map with sticks. Steve thought that only happened in cheesy photos. He remembered the advice before he had left for France 'it's not what you'll be used to'. He was glad he had been warned. He already saw such a divide between the neat, buoyant, healthy upper ranks and the gaunt and hungry looking privets.

The super soldier took a deep breath before joining the leaders at the table. He didn't want to jump to conclusions before he knew what was actually going on here. He didn't know the system. He was new. He needed to watch and learn the ropes before he started judging people and making assumptions. Abraham talked for a while about where they were with the fighting; showing him where their front lines ended and no man's land began. He showed Steve the strategies that were currently being implemented and how they would adapt them to accommodate Steve's arrival.

After Abraham had talked for about an hour, Steve had warmed to him slightly, seeing that although he didn't agree with his attitude, the guy clearly had good intentions and simply wanted to go home with the least men lost possible, like the rest of the troops.

"I think that's about everything, Captain. Now" the General said glancing at Flemings, " we were told that you were to be giving our boys a show. To raise moral and all that."

Steve immediately baulked at this. He was not here to be the Army's show monkey. He was not a puppet. He had been moved here to actually help, on the front lines with the other men. He wanted to help; didn't want to be seen as special. When that scrawny boy in Brooklyn had applied to be a part of the American Army he hadn't signed up repeatedly for the glory, risking arrest for falsification of identity, he had signed up to help his country and the men at the frontlines. He wanted to protect the innocent people living not only in his country, but countries weaker than America in need of help, not dance for people on a stage like some freak show circus act.

"I don't think that will be all that good of an idea, with all respect sir"

It was Abraham's turn to frown now "And why would that be, Rogers?"

"I don't think that it's all that...relevant here, sir. The troops won't be interested in stock and shares and bullet production"

"Ah, you're missing the point there, Rogers. It doesn't matter what you say, it matters that you're here. It's all been pretty hush hush up to this point and what better way to announce The Captain America's arrival than a show?" Abraham boomed, beaming.

Steve disagreed very strongly, his stance showed it in the tensing of his wide shoulders and stiffening of all the muscles in his neck and back, but he did not feel it was his place to argue with the officer-in-command and so he pressed his lips together to stop the grimace of frustration he felt forming there.

Steve sighed. They had even secretly packed the uniform. He had been issued the regulation two-tone uniform before he left, but Abraham had said that the show wouldn't be the same if he didn't wear the stars and stripes. So now he found himself just off stage, waiting for the dancers to finish, hoping that they hadn't shipped the poor girls over here specifically for this, holding his shield. As the girls finished he started to walk on stage. As he expected the troops were less than impressed, calling for the scantily clad girls to come back. Steve tried to make the best of what he had and continued the show with a smile but he did know when to stop and that moment came at the same time as the boos started coming from the men. He had known that it would end like this.

He looked up one last time before he made his exit from the stage. When he looked he saw a sea of disapproving and unfriendly faces. One face caught his eye at the back though. It looked familiar, something in the beard and the look that seemed to appraise all the thoughts that had ever passed through his head. And those thoughts seemed to amuse him, if the little smirk playing on his lips was anything to go by. As he reached the steps he saw the small dark haired man turn to leave, breaking eye contact. The smirk increased to a grin that was reflected on Steve's face as he stepped down into the mud.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Okay, so I know that this isn't great and reads a little awkwardly, but here's hoping it will get better. Stick around there is much, much more to come. Also I own nothing.


End file.
